‘And I’m sure I’ll see you all soon.’ Frank turned to me. ‘Not long now before I trespass on your family’s hospitality.’
‘Everyone’s looking forward to it,’ I said. Which is actually true. The whole family likes Frank. I’m probably not even the only one of us counting the days until he arrives (four, as it happens).
With a cheery wave, he bade us farewell.
‘What a nice boy,’ said Grace. ‘I hope he does join the tennis club.’
‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s go to the tearoom.’
We set off across the grass, Grace still jabbering on about how George had given her his second-best tennis racket and what fun she was going to have at the club. She was halfway through some boring story about the time she beat her other cousin at some sort of family tournament in her grandmother’s house when I saw another familiar figure making its way towards us.
‘Oh no,’ I said. ‘Not again!’
‘Is that the dog who jumped on you yesterday?’ Grace peered in the direction of the Menace, who was straining at his harness in his eagerness to harass me again.
I nodded grimly. ‘I’m afraid it is.’ I can’t get away from the dreadful little monster at the moment.
‘Mollie!’ cried Mrs. Sheffield. ‘How nice to see you. And your friends too.’
‘I see Barnaby’s wearing his harness,’ I said.
‘Oh yes,’ said Mrs. Sheffield. ‘I collected it from the cobbler yesterday afternoon. That lead really wasn’t strong enough for him.’
Barnaby sniffed my skirt, as if considering another attempt to ruin my clothes. I quickly stepped back.
‘By the way, Mrs. Sheffield,’ said Grace brightly, ‘I’m definitely joining the club. My aunt and uncle are going to put my name down.’
‘That’s wonderful.’ Mrs. Sheffield beamed. ‘I do like to see more girls joining. Oh, Barnaby, stop that!’ For Barnaby had turned his snuffling attention to Grace. But instead of leaping back from the Menace, as any sane person would surely do, Grace leaned over and patted his woolly head.
‘What a lovely doggie,’ she said.
Mrs. Sheffield’s smile grew even wider, which was, I am sure, just the reaction that Grace had been hoping for.
‘He is, isn’t he?’ she said. ‘Though he can be quite a handful.’
And that was when something very peculiar happened. The Menace, who had been sniffing away at Grace’s hand, stared at her very hard with his button eyes. This is not unusual for the Menace, of course. But then, still staring her straight in the face, he sat down and offered her his woolly paw.
Grace gave another dreadful tinkling laugh and shook it. ‘I think he likes me!’ she cried.
‘You’re very honoured,’ said Mrs. Sheffield. ‘He hardly does that with anybody.’
That’s certainly true. I didn’t think the Menace was even capable of shaking paws. He’s more likely to snarl at someone’s hand than shake it.
‘The only explanation I can think of,’ I told Nora later, ‘is that he recognised Grace as a kindred spirit.’ And Nora agreed that it was the only thing that made sense. Especially as Grace clearly felt the same way about him, because she rubbed his head again and said, ‘I wish I had a dog like this.’ And for once, she actually sounded sincere.
‘Well,’ said Mrs. Sheffield, ‘you can take Barnaby for a walk whenever you like. He’s a lively little companion, isn’t he, Mollie?’
I remembered the last time I took the Menace for a walk. If you recall, he escaped from my clutches and ran away, and if Frank hadn’t happened to be passing and grabbed hold of him, he might never have been seen again. And even though the Menace is the bane of my existence (well, one of the banes, along with Harry and Grace and the anti-suffragists and Ancient Order of Hooligans), I didn’t want him to be lost forever. Of course, I had never told Mrs. Sheffield about the Menace getting away from me so I just said, ‘Yes, he’s very strong.’
‘I’m sure I’d be able to handle him.’ Grace gave me a disdainful look. And the Menace looked up at her with what almost looked like … respect. If those button eyes were capable of showing such an emotion, of course.
To my astonishment, Grace clearly meant what she said and wasn’t just saying what she thought a grown-up wanted to hear. In fact, she actually arranged to call to Mrs. Sheffield’s house and take the Menace for an outing in a few days’ time. After we’d bid farewell to both Barnaby and his owner (Grace had rubbed his head again when she said goodbye to him, and he’d closed his eyes in what looked like pleasure), Nora said, ‘You do realise that that dog is an absolute savage and a menace to civilised society, don’t you? We won’t be able to come with you if you walk him.’
‘I wouldn’t expect you to,’ said Grace. ‘I can look after him perfectly well on my own. I don’t need the pair of you getting in the way.’
She’s probably right. Based on previous experience, I wouldn’t be much use if he misbehaved. By that stage we had reached the tearoom, and the next few minutes were spent finding a table, ordering cakes (I got a Mary Cake all to myself. When we go to Bewley’s Mother always insists on cutting even the tiniest cakes in two and sharing them between us). For a while we ate our cakes in what was almost a companionable silence.
‘This is jolly good,’ said Grace, swallowing a mouthful of chocolate cake.
‘So’s this scone,’ said Nora. She had a smudge of jam and cream on her chin. ‘You know, Grace, I bet Agnes would make a chocolate cake if you asked her to. She makes pretty decent ones.’
‘I’ll ask her then,’ said Grace.
It was all remarkably civilised. Maybe cakes and scones and buns are the key to social harmony? People seem to behave much more nicely when they’re sitting around eating together, I thought. Then I remembered how awfully Grace has behaved in the past in the refectory at school. So buns weren’t the answer. Maybe, I thought, she’d just be nicer if she wasn’t trying to be better than other girls all the time. I was pondering this question (and eating my cake) when a voice behind me said, ‘Mollie! Nora! What are you doing here?’
Was every single person I knew in the park today? I suppose it was a sunny July Sunday, but still! I turned around to see Mabel’s friendly face smiling at me. She was carrying a bag that, I could see, contained some copies of the Irish Citizen, the official publication of the Irish Women’s Franchise League.
‘There isn’t a meeting on today, is there?’ I said, forgetting all about Grace’s presence.
‘No, it was yesterday,’ said Mabel. ‘But I thought I’d take advantage of the fact that everyone goes to the park when the weather’s like this. I’ve sold quite a few Citizens already.’ She looked at Grace and smiled. ‘Hello there. I haven’t met you before, have I?’
‘No,’ said Grace. ‘I’m Grace Molyneaux. Nora’s cousin.’
‘This is my sister’s friend, Miss Purcell,’ I said. I didn’t see why Grace should be on first name terms with Mabel.
‘Are you a young suffragette too?’ said Mabel. ‘Nora and Mollie are excellent supporters of the cause.’
And for once, Grace didn’t know what to say. On the one hand, she’s been nothing but contemptuous of me and Nora for being involved in the Movement, but on the other hand, she always sucks up to grown-up people. And Mabel, though she’s only about nineteen, definitely counts as a grown-up. She wears long skirts and she’s put up her hair (and unlike Phyllis’s wild locks, it actually seems to stay up once she puts it there). It was actually rather funny, watching Grace decide whether it was more important to make a grown-up like her or to show us that she despised our cause. But Grace is nothing if she’s not clever. She smiled sweetly at Mabel and said, ‘I don’t know much about political things.’
‘Neither did I when I was your age,’ said Mabel. ‘But I’m sure Nora and Mollie can set you right, can’t you, girls?’
This was another unusual situation. Grace is definitely not used to a grown-up telling her she could learn anything from either me or Nora, and
she didn’t look particularly happy about it. Usually the situation is the other way around.
‘Of course we can,’ said Nora, cheerfully. ‘I say, Mabel, can I buy a Citizen? I’ve got the money on me.’
‘I’ll buy it for you.’ Mabel took a magazine out of her bag. ‘To make up for getting rid of your ticket to the meeting. After all, I got Mollie a book, I should give you a treat too.’
‘Thanks awfully,’ said Nora, as Mabel handed her a magazine. Mabel took a penny out of a very pretty embroidered purse and put it into a larger brown one.
‘This is my business purse.’ She held up the large brown receptacle. ‘I can’t mix up my own pennies and my Citizen money.’
‘I meant to tell you, thanks for the book too,’ I said. ‘It’s absolutely wonderful.’
Mabel smiled.
‘I thought you’d like it,’ she said. ‘I’ll lend you the sequel after you finish it. Now, will you be joining us to protest Mr. Asquith’s visit next week?’
That’s what I like about Mabel. She has accepted that we have a right to take an active part in the suffrage cause, unlike some people I could mention (Phyllis) who behave as though we’re just doing it to annoy them. But I knew it wasn’t safe to say much about us wanting to attend the protests in front of Grace. Grace is quite capable of finally saying something to Nora’s parents, especially since she didn’t win the cup. Now she has nothing to lose. So far, all she has known about me and Nora is that we support the cause and have considered taking militant action. But she doesn’t know quite how far we’ve gone. Then again, neither does Mabel.
So I just said, ‘We will definitely be there in spirit.’ Which is of course true. Though hopefully we will be there in person too.
‘Excellent,’ said Mabel. ‘You’re a credit to the cause, girls.’
If Grace hadn’t been there, I’d have taken advantage of the fact that Phyllis wasn’t around to ask Mabel exactly what protests have been planned (Phyllis still hasn’t told me anything, of course) and maybe even tell her about our boat idea, just to see what she thought. But even though I desperately wanted to know all the details, I could only hope that Mabel wouldn’t volunteer a word. Imagine if she revealed something secret, believing we were all trustworthy, and then Grace told the police!
‘Right,’ said Mabel. ‘I’d better go and catch all the people who come in here after twelve o’clock Mass and sell them some magazines. Goodbye, young suffragettes. Lovely to meet you, Grace.’ And off she went.
And off I must go too, for a while at least – Mother has just called me and asked me to help her sort out some old clothes of Phyllis’s to see if any of them will ‘do’ for me now I’ve grown a bit. Phyllis was taller than me when she was my age and rather larger in the chest so I’m not sure any of these things will fit but Mother says I won’t know until I try all of them on. What fun. I will return to continue my tale later.
Later
It is a sign of how seriously I take my mission to keep you informed of all my activities that I have taken up my pen despite the fact that I am now utterly exhausted. Mother kept me in her room for what felt like hours and hours, making me take off clothes and put other clothes on, over and over again. As I suspected, none of Phyllis’s old things fitted me particularly, but that didn’t stop Mother insisting that they’d all ‘do very well’.
‘How?’ I demanded, looking down at the printed dress that had looked rather nice on fifteen-year-old Phyllis, but which looked like a floral sack on me.
‘We can take this up a bit,’ said Mother, holding up the hem.
‘But it’s too wide!’ I said.
‘We can take it in here,’ said Mother, pulling in the fabric around my chest. It was all very humiliating really, being reminded how short and scrawny I am. And none of this would be happening if my family ever bought me new clothes, instead of expecting me to wear my sister’s cast-offs. The only new thing I ever get are hats because even my Mother doesn’t expect me to wear a ragged old boater with tatty ribbons that had spent a summer on Phyllis’s head three years ago. Oh, and stockings and underthings too. But nothing actually interesting that is seen by the rest of the world. It’s so unfair. You’re so lucky, being an only child. Actually, when it comes to clothes Nora might as well be an only child too, because of only having a brother. The most unfair thing of all is that Julia, of all people, gets quite a lot of new things because by the time both Phyllis and I have worn something for ages even Mother agrees that it’s too worn out to be given to Julia. Middle children never get anything nice.
Anyway! I will stop complaining about my ragged wardrobe and continue my story. When I stopped writing earlier, Mabel had just left the tearoom. Grace looked after her suspiciously.
‘What’s all this about Mr. Asquith’s visit?’ she said.
‘Didn’t you know?’ said Nora innocently. ‘He’s coming to Dublin next week.’
Grace scrunched up her nose in irritation.
‘Of course I knew that,’ she said. ‘But what did that girl mean when she asked if you were going to protest?’
‘She’s a suffragette,’ said Nora.
‘Yes, I did guess that,’ snapped Grace. ‘But what protest is she talking about? I hope there’s not going to be any more window smashing.’
‘I’m sure there won’t be,’ I said, though I wasn’t totally sure. After all, no one has given me any details of the protests yet. And I don’t think Mabel would have mentioned the protests to us at all if anything illegal were planned. ‘But you must have known the suffrage campaigners would do something when Mr. Asquith was here. After all, they’ve protested against Mr. Redmond often enough.’
Grace sniffed. ‘And made a disgrace of themselves too,’ she said. ‘My father read in the paper that they were brawling in the street.’
‘They certainly were not,’ I said hotly. ‘That was just the Ancient Order of Hibernians causing trouble.’
‘The Ancient Order of Hibernians would do no such thing,’ said Grace. ‘My Uncle Thomas is a member.’
I might have known Grace would be related to one of those dreadful Hibernians. Though as soon as I thought this I felt a little guilty, because of course she’s related to Nora too.
‘I didn’t know that,’ said Nora.
‘Well, he’s not your uncle, is he?’ said Grace. ‘He’s Father’s brother. Anyway, he and Father told Mother that the suffragettes were asking for trouble, making shows of themselves like that, and she quite agreed with them. And so do I.’
I couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t set off a row, and right now we can’t afford to fight with Grace, not with her staying in Nora’s house. So I said, ‘Good for you, Grace. Now, I feel like some fresh air.’
‘We’ve only just got here,’ said Grace. ‘I haven’t even finished my buns.’
‘All right,’ said Nora. ‘You can stay here and we’ll get some fresh air. We’ll walk around the tearoom.’
‘Fine,’ said Grace. She and Nora glared at each other, and for a moment I could actually see a family resemblance between them. They’re both very good at looking fierce. Then Nora turned on her heel and marched out of the tearoom.
‘We’ll just walk around the trees outside,’ I said to Grace, and hurried after Nora. I found her kicking a stone along the gravel path.
‘I can’t bear her!’ said Nora. ‘All that guff about her stupid uncle.’
‘Did you know he was an Ancient Hooligan?’ I said. But Nora hadn’t known anything of the kind.
‘I’ve hardly ever met him,’ she said. ‘I think the last time I saw him was at Christmas when we visited their house, and he wasn’t talking about anything political then.’
‘We’ve got to be careful what we say in front of Grace, you know,’ I said.
Nora sighed. ‘I know.’ She sat down on a bench and kicked another stone. ‘But it’s so difficult when she starts saying things like that.’
I sat beside her.
‘We must rise abo
ve her,’ I said. ‘I know that’s easier said than done.’
‘It certainly is,’ said Nora. ‘You should have heard her last night after supper. Boasting about how good at lessons she was.’
‘But you know,’ I went on, ‘maybe … maybe we could just try to be nice to each other.’
‘Nice!’ said Nora. ‘She’s not being very nice to me. Or you, for that matter.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘But we can’t risk her saying something to anyone, not when Mr. Asquith’s visit is so close. And,’ I added, ‘it might make things easier all round.’
‘Easier how?’ Nora looked sceptical.
‘Well … this bickering and fighting,’ I said. ‘It’s all very well when it’s just lunchtime at school. But it’s quite exhausting when it’s happening all the time.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Nora.
‘So why don’t we … I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Offer a peace treaty, like they do in wars.’
‘I doubt she’d sign it,’ said Nora.
‘Mollie! I say, Mollie!’
It was Mabel’s voice. I turned around to see her hurrying across the grass towards us. She was quite out of breath when she reached the bench.
‘Is everything all right?’ said Nora.
‘I hope so,’ said Mabel. ‘Did I leave my big leather purse at your table in the tearoom when you bought your Citizen? I just tried to give someone change for a shilling and I realised I didn’t have it with me.’
‘I didn’t notice it,’ I said, glancing at Nora.
‘Neither did I,’ said Nora. ‘But we can go back and check.’
‘Where’s your friend?’ said Mabel, as we started walking towards the tearoom entrance.
‘She’s not our friend, exactly,’ I said.
‘She’s not our friend at all,’ said Nora. ‘She’s my cousin. And I hate her.’
Mabel looked taken aback.
‘Goodness, Nora, you sound quite fierce,’ she said.